


Star Day

by myshonok



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Gen, M/M, RHHB Star Prompt, background jeonghan/joshua, implied past mingyu/seungkwan, nurse vern, patient seungkwan, seungkwan's mom also makes an appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 23:39:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11679480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myshonok/pseuds/myshonok
Summary: Just because you know the end of a movie doesn't mean you can't enjoy the plot in between.





	Star Day

**Author's Note:**

> recommended [sountrack](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XgzhkkM-TRs) for ur short read

_Hansol,  
I'm sorry if you can't read this, my handwriting has become so awful. _

 

Hansol knocks on the door, and opens when he hears a small "Come in!"  


In the chair is his next patient, a Mr. Boo Seungkwan, twenty years old. He's got his legs crossed and is holding a journal. His hair is long, grown past his ears, almost to his jaw. He's smiling, the brightest smile Hansol's ever seen - it makes his chubby cheeks rise. Next to him is a thin man with elfish ears who has occupied himself with glaring at Hansol, and --  


"Wow, you're super handsome."  


He's never had his train of thought interrupted like that.  


"What?"  


"I said you're handsome!" Oh, the smile makes his eyes shrink too. "The last nurse who gave me medicine was super old. I really loved her, but she kind of smelled like feet."  


"Uh--"  


"What's your name?"  


Hansol blinks, glances at the guy in the chair next to Seungkwan, then smiles with one side of his mouth. "Hansol. I'm your nurse."  


"Nice to meet you. I'm Seungkwan." He gestures Hansol closer, holding out his right arm for him to start cleaning up. Hansol had read that this was Seungkwan's first recurrence, his second time through, and it showed in how he knew what to do without questions. "This is Minghao. He's a bit shy."  


"'Sup," The guy in the chair says, then turns to his phone. He's stopped glaring at Hansol.  


"Just go ahead and do what you need to do, okay? This isn't my first rodeo."  


Forgetting almost everything that he's supposed to say, Hansol just nods. He's tying off Seungkwan's arm. In the corner of his eye, he watches Seungkwan reach for Minghao's hand, their fingers intertwining. He looks away out of respect, and briefly catches on the journal in Seungkwan's lap instead.  


"What're the stars for?" Hansol asks over the small, choked off sound of pain from Seungkwan when he has to tighten the strap around his arm. "You tracking days?"  


The journal is grid-lined instead of horizontal, and in every square across the top underneath a header written in tight, neat handwriting are golden star stickers. Seungkwan isn't smiling anymore, but he nods, eyes on the book. "I've given myself a star for every day that I feel okay. It's helping to make me stay optimistic, or something like that."  


"I like it." Vernon pays more attention to the precise medical procedure in front of him instead of Seungkwan's pinched brows and pursed lips, prepared to puncture his arm. "Are you ready?"  


Seungkwan's knuckles are white where he's holding on to Minghao's hand. When Hansol inserts the needle, Seungkwan inhales sharply, something pitiful and pained. Hansol has heard it many times, he gives medication to a ton of patients every day, but it doesn't make it easier.  


"That wasn't too bad," Seungkwan breathes while Hansol gives him medicine via syringe. "I think I remember it being worse last time. That wasn't too bad."  


Their eyes meet, and Seungkwan smiles. "I'm gonna give you your anti-nausea medicine now, 'kay?"  


"Sure." This time, Seungkwan manages to hold on to his smile, if not weakly. His head falls backward, and Hansol watches as his eyelids droop just slightly. "It's really like an instant flu."

 

_This is only the first letter I've written, too, I don't know how long the rest are going to take. It aches already. When I was in school before, my teachers used to tell me how pretty they thought my handwriting was. This is taking a really long time, and you'll be coming in for the shot soon, so I'm going to go as fast as I can._

 

"So, I'm curious."  


"Yes, Hansolie?"  


Seungkwan is a little more horizontal for his second chemo visit than the first one, with his squishy cheek tucked onto his own shoulder, eyes already watery though they haven't started yet. Minghao is absent today, leaving them by themselves.  


"What's in the bag you always have with you?"  


"That's my cancer survival kit!" Seungkwan's voice seems to regain some vigor, and he pushes to be sitting more upright, reaching for the drawstring bag resting in the empty chair beside his bed. It's bright yellow and has been doodled on by markers, the clumsy scribbles of multiple kids, from what Hansol can tell. Across the front he can read _Get well, Seungkwan hyung!_  


"Let me give you the tour." Seungkwan pulls out a stuffed bear, which he describes as been given to him by his sister, a pun on _bearapy_. Following that is a set of polaroids that show Seungkwan wearing various wigs back during his first run when he lost his hair, taken by a Kwon Soonyoung-ssi, his favorite hats, a book - _One Hundred and One Questions and Answers to Cancer_ , which he noted he now had to read the later chapters to - and a few tattered pieces of loose leaf paper. Letters from his mother, sisters and friends that he reads over whenever he's feeling low.  


The medicine is starting to hit, and Hansol can tell - Seungkwan is slumping. He's started to cry, his face scrunched up and blotchy, not because of the medicine but because of the bag. "I didn't think I would ever need it again. Eight months, seven chemos, and it didn't work. It's awful to have to grab it."  


Hansol doesn't ask if that day is a star day, and he doesn't have to. He just hopes for the next day to be one instead.

 

_I want you to know that even though I'm pretty sure the last couple of weeks or days are going to be really painful for me, I'm not unhappy and I'm not regretful. Because of my diagnosis, every day counts._

 

The next time Hansol goes into Seungkwan's room, he is met with the loud chatter of many voices and conversations going on at once. He knocks politely, as he always does, then peeks his head in. Inside, next to Seungkwan's bed (he had been moved to a bed after sitting in a chair became too difficult and uncomfortable, probably), are three women who look _remarkably_ like Seungkwan and one man who doesn't. Their conversation halts, and Hansol gives a small smile, looking to Seungkwan for help.  


"You took a long time today." Seungkwan's voice has changed a lot from when they first started. His report said he had a bad reaction to the medicine, and it's showing - he isn't chubby anymore, his cheekbones have become more pronounced and his skin has lost its tan. His smile is still very bright, but it's obvious how much he has to work just to show it.  


Seungkwan lifts his hand barely off the bedspread in order to gesture to each visitor there in turn.  


"Hansolie, these are my sisters, Sojeong and Jinseol, and my lovely mother all the way from Jeju, Ms. Jwa. Please show them the utmost respect, or I will crawl out of this bed personally to hit you." Seungkwan drawls, to which Hansol gives an exaggerated bow and causes everyone to chuckle - the man sitting on Seungkwan's other side has a funny, dry kind of laugh, and Seungkwan introduces him:  
"This is Yoon Jeonghan. I called into the hotline a few weeks ago, do you know which one? He called back. He's survived five years without recurrence, he had the same situation as me and everything."  
They exchange small bows while Seungkwan takes a breath. Hansol's focusing on his angiocatheter at this point, but he has enough mind to make idle conversation. "Your hair looks really healthy. Congratulations on five years."  


"He's married, too," Seungkwan mumbles, to the amusement of his guests. His left arm is now thrown over his eyes, but he's peeking at Hansol underneath it through hooded lids. Dark brown looks a lot duller, now. "To some cute stud that speaks English. I want to have something like that, too."  


It's a comment that might typically result in a stifled, uncomfortable atmosphere, but the group takes it well and responds with nothing but encouragement, as if they are all completely convinced that Seungkwan is going to fight through this and have the opportunity to get married to _some cute stud_. Hansol thinks he can believe it too. The conversation has picked up in the room again, with Seungkwan participating less and watching Hansol work more. The two of them are quiet until Ms. Jwa asks, "Hansol, how many patients do you see a day?"  


They're all watching him, so he gives his honest answer, still holding onto Seungkwan's right arm. "We have 28 chairs and three private rooms like this one. By the middle of the day, they're all full." He gets reserved, solemn nods in return. "But...we're starting to think of it less like a terminal disease, and more like a chronic one, because of how much the medicine is changing."  


The mood picks up slightly from that, which Hansol is thankful for. Seungkwan gives him a sleepy smile, which he's thankful for too.

 

_The blessing of cancer is that the closer you are to dying, the more alive you become. Does that make sense to you?_

 

"Hey, whoa! Your hair is gone."  


Today, Seungkwan has moved the bed so it's upright and he's using the side table as something to write on. He's holding a pen in his hand, but his fingers and wrists have become frail and thin and even from the door, Hansol can see him shaking. There's a stack of loose leaf paper beside his hand, with one already written on.  


"Not _gone_ , there's just less of it."  


His hair has been trimmed a lot shorter than it was before, neat and tidy, exposing his ears and a set of three moles around the outside of the left one. It's cute, and unique, and reminds Hansol of Orion's Belt.  


"I wanted to have it done professionally one last time before my hair fell out," Seungkwan says while Hansol sets him up for his injection. "I think it's nice to be able to do something like that, even when stylists say stuff like ' _This looks so good, you should keep it!_ ' The guy who cuts my hair is really nice, though, we used to date."  


Seungkwan startles a bit, as if he expected Hansol to react badly, and it's quiet - but he settles back into the hospital regulation pillows when Hansol just gives him a reassuring smile.  
"What were you working on before I came in?"  


"Ah! Don't look at it!" Seungkwan makes to cover up the single piece of paper he had written on, but now that Hansol is between the bed and the end table, he can't reach it. Hansol hurriedly says, "I won't!" And gently pushes Seungkwan back into the pillows, _again_.  


"I'm trying to write letters for everybody." He admits in a quieter voice, eyes on Hansol's hands at the angiocatheter. "The kind that people have just in case they - just in case, you know? To give out. I already wrote one, but it's turned out to be a little more than I can handle."  


He straightens like he had a sudden idea, leaning forward, and Hansol shoots him an annoyed glance in lieu of pushing him back for the last time. "You should help me out! I'm your last patient of the day, aren't I?"  


"I guess," Hansol says, faux irritation laced with fondness, "but let's get this done with first, okay?"  


The initial injection and following dose of anti-nausea medicine doesn't take more than a few minutes, but Seungkwan hasn't stopped having a bad reaction to it from the second visit and Hansol can visibly watch him drain. He leans back against the bed, waving off Hansol's offer to lower it, his eyebrows furrowing and eyes closing. He's quiet, unmoving - it takes a while for him to pipe up again.  


"Do you remember meeting Minghao?"  


"Sure." Seungkwan makes a vague gesture towards the stack of paper on the end table, but he hasn't opened his eyes yet. Hansol asks him, "Are you sure you want to? We can wait," and Seungkwan nods.  
"Just let me write Minghao's today. I can do my mom's and everyone else's tomorrow."  


Seungkwan pushed himself up, reaching past Hansol to grab the letter he'd already written, busying himself with slowly folding it. Hansol takes up the abandoned pen and a piece of paper, looking to Seungkwan expectedly.  


"His name is spelled like _Myung-Ho_ , Seo Myungho. Would you put the date for me? Oh, Hansolie - your handwriting is _awful_. It would have been more legible if my shaky ass tried to do it."  


Seungkwan let Hansol write the letter anyway, telling him what to say word by word in a voice that grew continuously more strained. Seungkwan said that he was a romantic, that even though they weren't together Minghao had made him feel loved in every way that he could. He became emotional over it, made Hansol go fetch him some tissues and was too tired to continue after that.

 

_I used to think that my purpose or main goal in life was to become a radio host or a dad or something._

 

"You know what people ask sometimes? What I would have done if I didn't have cancer. Don't you think that's a little bit awkward?"  


Hansol glances up from where he's reading over Seungkwan's updated report from the edge of his bed. Seungkwan has lost his hair by now, something Hansol knows he's heartbroken over even though he keeps joking about 'rocking the egg look'. There are more moles on his head, which Hansol thinks is cute. "It seems rude?"  


"I try not to think of it like that, 'cause I still could do some of these things, you know?" Neither of them comment further on the implication. "Do you want to know what I would've done?"  
Hansol slides off the bed, readjusts the blankets around Seungkwan, then has a seat in the chair next to him. "Shoot."  


"I _really_ wanted to be a radio host of some sort. Do you know Lee Suji's Gayo Plaza? I _loved_ that show, I always dreamt of meeting her and doing a show with her, she's so funny. I did some auditions too, but I was never contacted. I didn't look the best, I think that's why." Hansol is about to interject on that point, so Seungkwan switches to another topic. "I wanted to get married so badly, and have kids. I _love_ kids. You know what they say, though - Man makes plans, and God laughs. At least I was able to visit the kids over in their ward for a while, they're all so sweet."  


"You're gonna upset yourself," Hansol says, and Seungkwan sighs.

 

_I think now that my reason for being here is to share that message with other people. Live every day to your fullest, do everything that you want to do while you have time to do it._

 

"Seungkwan, wake up."  


There's no response, initially. Seungkwan is tucked into his bedding, eyebrows slightly pinched in his sleep. He's pale, thin.  


"Come on, wake up. You've just got to take this, then we can go outside for a minute, okay?"  


Hansol's got a bottle and a straw for him, holding them in one hand and reaching out to brush over Seungkwan's forehead with the other. It's hard for him to wake up, harder for him to sit up, but Hansol helps, props up the bed for him. His eyes have just barely opened.  


"I think this one doesn't taste that bad. Haven't tried it personally, but that's what I hear."  


Seungkwan can't hold the bottle, Hansol has to do it for him, but he drinks all of it like he's supposed to. Afterwards he says, "Tastes like hallabong," in a volume so quiet and rough that Hansol can barely decipher it. He laughs for him, though, and Seungkwan's lips quirk up in the smallest version of a smile, made to look almost drunk with how his eyes are nearly closed.  


"You wanna go outside?" Hansol asks, and Seungkwan nods.  


He has to carry more than help him from the bed, into a chair that can be pushed so Seungkwan doesn't have to strain himself more by walking. They take the ratted hospital blanket too, because Seungkwan sometimes gets cold going outside his room on days when the weather isn't warm enough.  


Today it's especially nice, the sun bright enough to make both of them squint when they make it past the doors. Seungkwan soaks it all in as if he wouldn't prefer to be anywhere else -- the sunlight reflects on his sharp cheekbones, his forehead, turns his eyes into something closer to caramel than black. Even through the pallor of his skin, Seungkwan looks beautiful.

 

_Hansolie, these days it's harder and harder to come by a gold sticker for me, have you noticed?_

 

 

Hansol's suit is tight.  


He hasn't been to something like this in years. He's uncomfortable and unhappy, the smell of incense has been choking his nose since he arrived. He expected his first visit to Jeju to be a lot more pleasant.  


He had mostly been keeping his head down during the proceedings, not talking outside of his brief visit with Ms. Jwa and her daughters. He met some of the people Seungkwan had spoken about before - Mingyu the hairdresser, Jeonghan's husband, Soonyoung.  


He had taken up a bench outside the main room, elbows on his knees and hands dangling limp. His mind was empty.  


Hansol watched a pair of dress shoes walk closer to him, raised his head to find Minghao. Their grim expressions probably matched.  


"Hey," Minghao said, holding out a white envelope for Hansol to take. The front was sealed with a gold sticker. "He wanted you to have this."

 

_The days that you were with me were always star days._

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for my writer group chat's july prompt, "stars." special thanks to kait for encouraging me and mikes for giving me the hospital idea in the first place!  
> 
> 
> a lot of scenes or lines in this are inspired by or borrowed from the mini documentary Christina, which i watched to prepare for writing this fic! i'm unoriginal as hell  
> 
> 
> ps if you haven't watched [seventeen on lee suji's gayo plaza](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qjCiobP0DSI&t=54s), i highly recommend it  
> 
> 
> come tell me if you cried or not on [twitter](https://twitter.com/skbbu)


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